Title: A moment of clarity
Author: Teleri
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own nothing, just the shrink and he's not much.
Feedback: teleri_rhys@hotmail.com. Please this is my first story. Let me know.
"So tell me about your dream."
"Oh, you know, the same one I always have. Nothing very different, it was a little hazy from the drugs, but basically the same."
"You know, it does you good to explore the fantasy so that the psychotic episodes don't reoccur."
The girl shifted uncomfortably in her chair, Dr. John Wilson was very experienced in treating teenage psychotics and this girl had been his patient for some time, so he felt comfortable pushing her a little harder than his other patients.
"Buffy, come on, you know this is for the best. The more we discuss these violent fantasies of yours, the better you can get, and the better you get, the less medication you have to take. Please, for me?"
The girl sighed heavily and shrugged, making what John had always thought of as her resigned face and said, "Okay, but I promise, nothing new happened. It starts the same way, I'm walking in a cemetery and I know something is gonna happen. Then out of nowhere this guy, this vampire jumps out at me."
"How do you know he's a vampire, are you sure he's not just a regular attacker?" interrupts the therapist.
She rolls her eyes and says, "I just know, okay, everything in me sings I've got to kill him, 'kay? Anyway, he jumps me and I kick him, hard. He goes down and then I stake him and he turns to dust. Just like always."
"Is it always the same attacker?"
She thinks for a minute and then says hesitantly, "No, sometimes it's different guys, sometimes it's even a group of them, but I always get the vibe that they're baddies, and I have to kill them."
"Okay, Buffy, that's good. Then what happens?"
"Then the scene switches, sometimes I'm in a club with my friends, or I'm in a library or kinda a bookstore or something. Usually I'm just hanging out with them, ya know, all normal like. And yes, those friend people are always the same, just sometimes doing different stuff."
Dr. Wilson smiles and asks, "Can you describe these friends?"
Very angrily, she says, "Ya know its not like I haven't done this a hundred times." At his stern look she continues, "Okay, they're geeks. A guy, really goofy acting and dressed very lame. A girl, a redheaded, kinda nerdy with a too-wide smile. A big, tall guy wearing way too much black to be healthy and this teacher guy, all tweedy and with glasses.
"All of these people, ya know, I might say 'Hi' to if I needed something, but truly, not my kind of people. At least, not when I was normal. Now my only kind of people are in restraints or in white coats," she smiled faintly at the effort of a joke.
"Sometimes, there's more that just those, but these are the ones that always show up. Anyway, then the dream changes again. Sometimes they get killed one by one, or in great big group, but eventually they all die. Always, and there's nothing I can do," she finishes.
She reaches for a Kleenex to dab at her eyes even though she's not really crying, but it's part of the dream-telling ritual now. Talk, then cry, then listen.
"Did you dream about you sister this time?" Dr. Wilson asked.
"No, not this time, you know I asked Mom about that like you said. She said she wanted another kid, but Dad, well…"
Dr. Wilson patted her hand sympathically; her father was a very sore issue with this girl. It was a typical reaction to a divorce and his rather rapid remarriage. Well, typical except for the psychotic episodes that have marred her mental history.
He thought about the fragile creature sitting before him. They started therapy when she was just barely 16. One evening, she darted out of her parents' nice suburban home, and ran into the night. Three hours later, the LA police called her parents to let them know they had picked her up for attacking homeless people in the park. She had stabbed two people with wooden stakes and even tried to attack the police. He shook his head at the memory. He'd dealt with a large number of delusional psychotics, but few had had a delusion so very consistent and coherent. She claimed to be some kind of vampire slayer, and said she was the chosen one to fight evil, particularly vampires. It took 7 orderlies to hold her down for sedation.
Eventually after a few months of heavy sedation and confinement, she began to so some signs of lucidity. The violent responses lessened, her fear of the dark diminished and she began to sleep regularly. Of course that's when the dreams began and she suffered a major setback. Her recurring nightmares had all be quite consistent, all centered on these friends and fighting evil in a small town called Sunnyvale or something similar. If the dreams were ignored, she eventually attacked someone or, more recently, tried to injure herself. Last time, she had slashed her wrists, saying she needed to die, so the next slayer could be called. He hoped that it would not get to that point this time, so far the lithium had been dealing with the episodes well, and medication to keep the dreams from being to real had been helping as well.
He looked at the girl before him, and saw the ravages of insanity. When she had first become his patient, she was well kept, pretty and had a light in her hazel eyes. Now, after four years of the necessary drugs and the darkness in her mind, she was a shell of the girl she used to be. Her eyes were dull; she had to be reminded to brush her hair and bathe. Her face had thinned drastically, and was only now regained some color.
Leaning forward, Dr. Wilson took her hand and said, "Buffy, I'm thinking of trying something that is rather unusual."
"Okay," she said hesitantly.
"I was discussing your case with a colleague of mine and he suggested a very radical therapy, since drugs and other options are not working," he said with reassuring smile.
"Not shock treatment again?"
"No," he winced, that had not been one of her best moments in treatment, "He suggested taking you to the place of your dreams."
To her astonished face, he explained, "It seems that there is actually a town a few hours from here, called Sunnydale, and I thought if you were to see that the town was nothing like your dreams, it would help you let go of some of the delusions."
"Would it help me be, well, normal again?"
"I don't know Buffy, it's at least worth a shot." He neglected to mention that if this went badly she may end up hospitalized for life, but to be honest with himself, she was on her way to that end anyway.
"Okay, when do we do it?"
"Tomorrow sound okay? Today you have to get to your job. I'm very proud that you've held this recent one so long. It's a very good sign."
She blushed, " I'm sorry I went after those lawyers, I guess the medication just wasn't working as well as I thought, I was positive they were evil."
He smiled at her, shaking his head. "Well, we were lucky that the nice lawyers at Wolfram & Hart were understanding and decided to not press charges. Still it could have been better. That's why I think we should take this trip. Hopefully, you'll feel much better."
She smiled weakly and gathered up her things, "Good, I'd like to be just a cleaning lady, not the crazy cleaning lady. See you tomorrow. Thanks doc."
The next day, Dr. John Wilson picked up his most confusing patient at her mother's home. After reassuring her mother, that this form of therapy could only benefit her daughter, they drove off. He had planned to arrive in the middle of the day, to give his patient the opportunity to explore the town without having to be concerned about the sun setting. She had a considerable fear of the dark and of the night and he didn't see the point of having her address the issue of the dream town and her phobias in one outing.
Roughly two hours later, he and a sleeping patient drove past the "Welcome to Sunnydale" sign. He stopped the car at the sign and woke her up.
"Where do you want to go first? Does any of this look familiar to you?"
She nodded, "I think I saw someone run over this sign in a dream, he was not a friend. Um, maybe if we go to my house, I mean, my house in the dreams. The address is um, 1630 Revello Drive, I think."
"Okay," Dr Wilson says, getting back into the car, "Sounds like a plan to sanity."
As they drive through the town, she seems to recognize some elements of it, but not all. The high school has had a good deal of renovation and a memorial out front dedicated 'To the Lost'. In her dreams it had been destroyed. The town itself seemed quiet, very few people out on the streets. A great many businesses had "For Sale" signs in their windows, and many houses were for sale as well. They drove by the former University of California at Sunnydale campus; John remembered when the state pulled the funding from the little state school. Late last year, after two riots and a missing persons rate almost as high as L.A. itself, the state had decided that it no longer wanted to fund the campus and the university. It had closed its doors this last January. John new some faculty from the school and they were pleased to leave for greener pastures. Finally they pull up in front of a charming if slightly run down Arts & Crafts style bungalow.
Buffy gasped, "That's it, that's my house. Wow. Well a little run down but still…"
"Do you want to go inside?" Dr. Wilson asks.
"Um, yes, that goes over well, 'Hi My name is Buffy, I'm a diagnosed psychotic but I would like to come inside your house because I have delusional dreams about it.' Yes I can see the trusting homeowners inviting us in for tea in a heartbeat."
Dr. Wilson looked at her with a rather shocked and amused smile on his face. Since they gotten into the town, her mannerisms had changed slightly. She was wittier, made jokes, but seemed slightly angry. He would have to keep an eye on here, if she had an episode now, it would destroy all the progress she had made.
"Let me try a slightly less honest version, maybe seeing inside would change everything," he smiled.
He walked up to the door and knocked politely. A smiling older lady answered the door, "May I help you?"
"Yes ma'am, my name is Dr. John Wilson and this is my younger sister Buffy. We grew up in this house and she would like to see inside if that's okay with you. She hasn't been here since she was five and would really like to see the house."
"Um, okay, it is daylight, it should be okay. Please come in," the lady opened the door wider and gestured them in.
Buffy looked around disappointedly. Nothing was like her dreams. The furniture was all old lady furniture and the layout was somewhat different.
"Now I had my eldest son turn the living room area into a bedroom and the dining room into the living room. I just use the first floor now, with my hip, I can't really go up and down those stairs," the lady explained.
Buffy smiled at her and said, "I was in kindergarten with some kids, an Alexander Harris and a Willow or Rowan Rosenberg, they were really good friends are they still around?"
"Oh dear, I believe Willow was Ira Rosenberg's daughter. I think she and a number of children were killed during the explosion at the high school. A gas main broke and 30 or 40 children were killed. I remember Ira's daughter because she was valedictorian. Such a shame, Ira was crushed," she shook her head. "The other boy, I don't know, I don't keep up with the young people so much. So many tragic things happen in this town to the young people. In fact our population keeps dropping, we're practically a ghost town," she laughed nervously.
Buffy hung her head, "Oh thank you," and walked out of the house.
John smiled to the woman, "Thank you for your hospitality, my sister and I appreciate it." He put his arm around Buffy and led her to the car.
"Dr. Wilson, John, can I go to the graveyard?"
"I don't know Buffy, maybe, if you think it will help you let go, I guess."
"Thank you."
She had been very quiet on the way to the cemetery, not saying a word and barely moving. John hoped that she was processing that these people weren't real. It was an unusual coincidence that the girl whose name she remembered did exist, but possibly she heard something on the news about the accident. The cemetery was oddly large for such a small town. As they walked through the cemetery, John realized that the sun was setting and also noticed that most of the headstones were very new, maybe 3 or 4 years old at the most.
"Buffy, the sun is setting, are you sure you want to do this?" he asked.
"Yes, I don't think I'm afraid anymore, doc. I just want to see the stone and we can go. Okay?"
"Sure." About then, a man in a long, black coat and white blonde hair came around from a crypt. Buffy gasped.
"You, I-I know you," she stuttered.
"Of course you do, Slayer." The man replied with a sad smile. "You gotta wake up, Buffy. They need you."
"Just a minute, young man. Who do you think you are? This girl does not need a sicko like you feeding into her delusions," John interrupted. "Come on, Buffy, let's go." He grabbed her arm and she shook it off easily.
"How to I fix me?" She said to the stranger as she knocked the therapist to the ground. "What do you know that can help me, are my dreams real?"
"No, they're not. This is a dream." Then the man stepped forward and held out his hand to her. "Buffy you have to go to sleep. For real, without the drugs."
"How do I do that? Can you help me? I can't do this anymore. Every second hurts, I know everything is wrong. I can't focus, I can't think, please help me."
"My pleasure Slayer." The blonde man smiled as he took her into his arms. As she felt his cold hands on the sides of her head, she heard Dr. Wilson scream and then everything went black.
"Whoa." Buffy rose and shook her head. "Will, how long was I out?"
"Only a few minutes Buff, you got the last vamp, but hit your head on the way down or something. You okay?" Willow smiled nervously in her slightly too wide manner.
"Yea Slayer, thought you'd gone and left me with Red there for a second," Spike joked as he helped her to her feet.
"Nah, you don't get rid of me that easily," she grinned wickedly and rubbed her neck. "Can you dream when you're unconscious?"
Willow scratched her head and said, "I don't know. Did you have like a Slayer vision while you were out?"
"I don't think so, just some weirdness. No big," With a final nod of her head to shake away the confusion of the dream. "Are we meeting Xander and Anya at the Bronze tonight?" Buffy grinned at her friends as they walked back towards town.
Author: Teleri
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own nothing, just the shrink and he's not much.
Feedback: teleri_rhys@hotmail.com. Please this is my first story. Let me know.
"So tell me about your dream."
"Oh, you know, the same one I always have. Nothing very different, it was a little hazy from the drugs, but basically the same."
"You know, it does you good to explore the fantasy so that the psychotic episodes don't reoccur."
The girl shifted uncomfortably in her chair, Dr. John Wilson was very experienced in treating teenage psychotics and this girl had been his patient for some time, so he felt comfortable pushing her a little harder than his other patients.
"Buffy, come on, you know this is for the best. The more we discuss these violent fantasies of yours, the better you can get, and the better you get, the less medication you have to take. Please, for me?"
The girl sighed heavily and shrugged, making what John had always thought of as her resigned face and said, "Okay, but I promise, nothing new happened. It starts the same way, I'm walking in a cemetery and I know something is gonna happen. Then out of nowhere this guy, this vampire jumps out at me."
"How do you know he's a vampire, are you sure he's not just a regular attacker?" interrupts the therapist.
She rolls her eyes and says, "I just know, okay, everything in me sings I've got to kill him, 'kay? Anyway, he jumps me and I kick him, hard. He goes down and then I stake him and he turns to dust. Just like always."
"Is it always the same attacker?"
She thinks for a minute and then says hesitantly, "No, sometimes it's different guys, sometimes it's even a group of them, but I always get the vibe that they're baddies, and I have to kill them."
"Okay, Buffy, that's good. Then what happens?"
"Then the scene switches, sometimes I'm in a club with my friends, or I'm in a library or kinda a bookstore or something. Usually I'm just hanging out with them, ya know, all normal like. And yes, those friend people are always the same, just sometimes doing different stuff."
Dr. Wilson smiles and asks, "Can you describe these friends?"
Very angrily, she says, "Ya know its not like I haven't done this a hundred times." At his stern look she continues, "Okay, they're geeks. A guy, really goofy acting and dressed very lame. A girl, a redheaded, kinda nerdy with a too-wide smile. A big, tall guy wearing way too much black to be healthy and this teacher guy, all tweedy and with glasses.
"All of these people, ya know, I might say 'Hi' to if I needed something, but truly, not my kind of people. At least, not when I was normal. Now my only kind of people are in restraints or in white coats," she smiled faintly at the effort of a joke.
"Sometimes, there's more that just those, but these are the ones that always show up. Anyway, then the dream changes again. Sometimes they get killed one by one, or in great big group, but eventually they all die. Always, and there's nothing I can do," she finishes.
She reaches for a Kleenex to dab at her eyes even though she's not really crying, but it's part of the dream-telling ritual now. Talk, then cry, then listen.
"Did you dream about you sister this time?" Dr. Wilson asked.
"No, not this time, you know I asked Mom about that like you said. She said she wanted another kid, but Dad, well…"
Dr. Wilson patted her hand sympathically; her father was a very sore issue with this girl. It was a typical reaction to a divorce and his rather rapid remarriage. Well, typical except for the psychotic episodes that have marred her mental history.
He thought about the fragile creature sitting before him. They started therapy when she was just barely 16. One evening, she darted out of her parents' nice suburban home, and ran into the night. Three hours later, the LA police called her parents to let them know they had picked her up for attacking homeless people in the park. She had stabbed two people with wooden stakes and even tried to attack the police. He shook his head at the memory. He'd dealt with a large number of delusional psychotics, but few had had a delusion so very consistent and coherent. She claimed to be some kind of vampire slayer, and said she was the chosen one to fight evil, particularly vampires. It took 7 orderlies to hold her down for sedation.
Eventually after a few months of heavy sedation and confinement, she began to so some signs of lucidity. The violent responses lessened, her fear of the dark diminished and she began to sleep regularly. Of course that's when the dreams began and she suffered a major setback. Her recurring nightmares had all be quite consistent, all centered on these friends and fighting evil in a small town called Sunnyvale or something similar. If the dreams were ignored, she eventually attacked someone or, more recently, tried to injure herself. Last time, she had slashed her wrists, saying she needed to die, so the next slayer could be called. He hoped that it would not get to that point this time, so far the lithium had been dealing with the episodes well, and medication to keep the dreams from being to real had been helping as well.
He looked at the girl before him, and saw the ravages of insanity. When she had first become his patient, she was well kept, pretty and had a light in her hazel eyes. Now, after four years of the necessary drugs and the darkness in her mind, she was a shell of the girl she used to be. Her eyes were dull; she had to be reminded to brush her hair and bathe. Her face had thinned drastically, and was only now regained some color.
Leaning forward, Dr. Wilson took her hand and said, "Buffy, I'm thinking of trying something that is rather unusual."
"Okay," she said hesitantly.
"I was discussing your case with a colleague of mine and he suggested a very radical therapy, since drugs and other options are not working," he said with reassuring smile.
"Not shock treatment again?"
"No," he winced, that had not been one of her best moments in treatment, "He suggested taking you to the place of your dreams."
To her astonished face, he explained, "It seems that there is actually a town a few hours from here, called Sunnydale, and I thought if you were to see that the town was nothing like your dreams, it would help you let go of some of the delusions."
"Would it help me be, well, normal again?"
"I don't know Buffy, it's at least worth a shot." He neglected to mention that if this went badly she may end up hospitalized for life, but to be honest with himself, she was on her way to that end anyway.
"Okay, when do we do it?"
"Tomorrow sound okay? Today you have to get to your job. I'm very proud that you've held this recent one so long. It's a very good sign."
She blushed, " I'm sorry I went after those lawyers, I guess the medication just wasn't working as well as I thought, I was positive they were evil."
He smiled at her, shaking his head. "Well, we were lucky that the nice lawyers at Wolfram & Hart were understanding and decided to not press charges. Still it could have been better. That's why I think we should take this trip. Hopefully, you'll feel much better."
She smiled weakly and gathered up her things, "Good, I'd like to be just a cleaning lady, not the crazy cleaning lady. See you tomorrow. Thanks doc."
The next day, Dr. John Wilson picked up his most confusing patient at her mother's home. After reassuring her mother, that this form of therapy could only benefit her daughter, they drove off. He had planned to arrive in the middle of the day, to give his patient the opportunity to explore the town without having to be concerned about the sun setting. She had a considerable fear of the dark and of the night and he didn't see the point of having her address the issue of the dream town and her phobias in one outing.
Roughly two hours later, he and a sleeping patient drove past the "Welcome to Sunnydale" sign. He stopped the car at the sign and woke her up.
"Where do you want to go first? Does any of this look familiar to you?"
She nodded, "I think I saw someone run over this sign in a dream, he was not a friend. Um, maybe if we go to my house, I mean, my house in the dreams. The address is um, 1630 Revello Drive, I think."
"Okay," Dr Wilson says, getting back into the car, "Sounds like a plan to sanity."
As they drive through the town, she seems to recognize some elements of it, but not all. The high school has had a good deal of renovation and a memorial out front dedicated 'To the Lost'. In her dreams it had been destroyed. The town itself seemed quiet, very few people out on the streets. A great many businesses had "For Sale" signs in their windows, and many houses were for sale as well. They drove by the former University of California at Sunnydale campus; John remembered when the state pulled the funding from the little state school. Late last year, after two riots and a missing persons rate almost as high as L.A. itself, the state had decided that it no longer wanted to fund the campus and the university. It had closed its doors this last January. John new some faculty from the school and they were pleased to leave for greener pastures. Finally they pull up in front of a charming if slightly run down Arts & Crafts style bungalow.
Buffy gasped, "That's it, that's my house. Wow. Well a little run down but still…"
"Do you want to go inside?" Dr. Wilson asks.
"Um, yes, that goes over well, 'Hi My name is Buffy, I'm a diagnosed psychotic but I would like to come inside your house because I have delusional dreams about it.' Yes I can see the trusting homeowners inviting us in for tea in a heartbeat."
Dr. Wilson looked at her with a rather shocked and amused smile on his face. Since they gotten into the town, her mannerisms had changed slightly. She was wittier, made jokes, but seemed slightly angry. He would have to keep an eye on here, if she had an episode now, it would destroy all the progress she had made.
"Let me try a slightly less honest version, maybe seeing inside would change everything," he smiled.
He walked up to the door and knocked politely. A smiling older lady answered the door, "May I help you?"
"Yes ma'am, my name is Dr. John Wilson and this is my younger sister Buffy. We grew up in this house and she would like to see inside if that's okay with you. She hasn't been here since she was five and would really like to see the house."
"Um, okay, it is daylight, it should be okay. Please come in," the lady opened the door wider and gestured them in.
Buffy looked around disappointedly. Nothing was like her dreams. The furniture was all old lady furniture and the layout was somewhat different.
"Now I had my eldest son turn the living room area into a bedroom and the dining room into the living room. I just use the first floor now, with my hip, I can't really go up and down those stairs," the lady explained.
Buffy smiled at her and said, "I was in kindergarten with some kids, an Alexander Harris and a Willow or Rowan Rosenberg, they were really good friends are they still around?"
"Oh dear, I believe Willow was Ira Rosenberg's daughter. I think she and a number of children were killed during the explosion at the high school. A gas main broke and 30 or 40 children were killed. I remember Ira's daughter because she was valedictorian. Such a shame, Ira was crushed," she shook her head. "The other boy, I don't know, I don't keep up with the young people so much. So many tragic things happen in this town to the young people. In fact our population keeps dropping, we're practically a ghost town," she laughed nervously.
Buffy hung her head, "Oh thank you," and walked out of the house.
John smiled to the woman, "Thank you for your hospitality, my sister and I appreciate it." He put his arm around Buffy and led her to the car.
"Dr. Wilson, John, can I go to the graveyard?"
"I don't know Buffy, maybe, if you think it will help you let go, I guess."
"Thank you."
She had been very quiet on the way to the cemetery, not saying a word and barely moving. John hoped that she was processing that these people weren't real. It was an unusual coincidence that the girl whose name she remembered did exist, but possibly she heard something on the news about the accident. The cemetery was oddly large for such a small town. As they walked through the cemetery, John realized that the sun was setting and also noticed that most of the headstones were very new, maybe 3 or 4 years old at the most.
"Buffy, the sun is setting, are you sure you want to do this?" he asked.
"Yes, I don't think I'm afraid anymore, doc. I just want to see the stone and we can go. Okay?"
"Sure." About then, a man in a long, black coat and white blonde hair came around from a crypt. Buffy gasped.
"You, I-I know you," she stuttered.
"Of course you do, Slayer." The man replied with a sad smile. "You gotta wake up, Buffy. They need you."
"Just a minute, young man. Who do you think you are? This girl does not need a sicko like you feeding into her delusions," John interrupted. "Come on, Buffy, let's go." He grabbed her arm and she shook it off easily.
"How to I fix me?" She said to the stranger as she knocked the therapist to the ground. "What do you know that can help me, are my dreams real?"
"No, they're not. This is a dream." Then the man stepped forward and held out his hand to her. "Buffy you have to go to sleep. For real, without the drugs."
"How do I do that? Can you help me? I can't do this anymore. Every second hurts, I know everything is wrong. I can't focus, I can't think, please help me."
"My pleasure Slayer." The blonde man smiled as he took her into his arms. As she felt his cold hands on the sides of her head, she heard Dr. Wilson scream and then everything went black.
"Whoa." Buffy rose and shook her head. "Will, how long was I out?"
"Only a few minutes Buff, you got the last vamp, but hit your head on the way down or something. You okay?" Willow smiled nervously in her slightly too wide manner.
"Yea Slayer, thought you'd gone and left me with Red there for a second," Spike joked as he helped her to her feet.
"Nah, you don't get rid of me that easily," she grinned wickedly and rubbed her neck. "Can you dream when you're unconscious?"
Willow scratched her head and said, "I don't know. Did you have like a Slayer vision while you were out?"
"I don't think so, just some weirdness. No big," With a final nod of her head to shake away the confusion of the dream. "Are we meeting Xander and Anya at the Bronze tonight?" Buffy grinned at her friends as they walked back towards town.